"MY DEAR SISTER,

"December 25.

"I am not very prone to indulge the idea, that my happiness can depend on change of place; but when such fancies do gain admittance, home is always the scene of my imaginary bliss. It is, however, a remedy to consider, that, however we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet, if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity together in the next.

"I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking proprie ty in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly understand. For some time past I have been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and what nothing but sad experience could make us believe, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those things which apparently would, and certainly ought to, have the most beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascination in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pursuits, as can hardly be conceived without experience; and I am astonished and vexed, to find its influence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided."

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

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January 25.

"In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant, who used to torture his subjects, by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and painful death. I have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor wretches. Bound, to a loathsome body of sin, from which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to experience effects from it not much less painful and displeasing to him, than the stench of a putrefying carcass was to those who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most pain ful of all trials, and, since we know that perfection is not granted to any in this world, how far we ought to extend our prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin; but is there

no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire for holiness? And is not indolence, and a wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions for divine assistance? Sin is a sly traitor; and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom; and now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all.

"For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, amazingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Saviour, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed; but now I find, by sad experience, it is not only alive, but extremely active; and had I not an almighty Helper, I should instantly give up in despair.”

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"Portland, Feb. 9, 1806.

"For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters should be so acceptable at home as those I receive from home are to me. You have friends there, to divide your attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, consequently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my friends can possibly have, to hear from me.

"I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communicate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears; nobody who can participate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is, perhaps, best for me that it should be so; but it is very unpleasant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve a decent exterior, in order to be respected. However, it is some consolation, that they think the same of every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling consequence One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is, what is commonly called a rational Christian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much of the same character."

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"Portland, April 1, 1806.

"I am now entirely alone, and, except a visit once a fortnight from Mr. R., I see no face within my chamber from one week to another. It is sometimes unpleasant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing, but their being out of my reach, can restrain me. When I come home from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand, I should certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding it. I begin to find, that the smiles with which my early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education; and O what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require! I see already, that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to preserve me from 'waxing fat and kicking;' and if it has this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. How many artifices does it contrive to hide itself! If, at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and acquired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with-" Ay, this is something like! this is holy mourning for sin; this is true humility." If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he changes his battery, and begins-" Another person would have indulged those feelings, and imagined he was really humble, but you know better; you can detect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do." Thus this hateful enemy con

tinually harasses me. What a proof that the heart is the native soil of pride, when it thus contrives to gather strength from those very exercises which one would think must destroy it utterly!

My other chief besetting sin, which will cut out abundance of work for me, is fondness for applause. When I sit down to write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to seek for such observations as will be admired, rather than such as will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, and that I shall be tried by many and grievous afflictions, in order to keep me humble and dependant. However, it is of no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able and willing to cure me, and I leave the manner to him; trust

ing he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the prescription."

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

"Portland, June 17, 1806.

"After I have told you that I have been unwell some time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my stock of information is exhausted-unless, indeed, I still make myself the subject; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted with doubt, whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at all. I want, at times, to get as far back into the country as possible, and, on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from observation as circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little remarkable, that, while I am harassed with doubts and perplexities about every thing else, I feel none, or comparatively none, about my own state. If at any time such doubts intruded, they were banished by that text, "I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for mine own sake." But, lately, the very absence of doubt has caused me to doubt; for if I were a child of God, how should I be free from those doubts which trouble them? But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the certainty which I almost ever feel of my safety, should have no more effect on my disposition and conduct. This seems to me

more unaccountable than any thing else; for even the devils, one would think, might and would rejoice to think of approaching happiness.

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'I have, for some time, had something like a desire to become a missionary. I have not mentioned it before, because I doubted whether it would not be only a temporary wish. I should feel less backward to preach to savages, or white men little above savages, than any where else. However, I hope Providence will, some way or other, get me into the place where I shall be most useful, be it what it may. I do not feel very solicitous in which way or in what situation.

"I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, after commencement, set out for Rindge, should nothing prevent. At present, I can write no more. The bearer is booted, whipped, chaired, and waiting.

"Present my most affectionate regards to pa'. I shall make great encroachments on his time, when I come home. Your affectionate son,

"E. PAYSON."

A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a less dubious proof of expansive Christian benevolence, than it would be

at the present day. The obligation of Christians to send the gospel to the heathen could not have been learned from any thing which the American Church was then doing, or had done for a long period. As to any visible movement, she appeared as indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes of men, as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it in charge, to "preach the gospel to every creature." Mr. Payson was probably ignorant that another youthful bosom in the country panted with the same desire; though it was about this time, if not in this very year-a coincidence which they who regard the works of the Lord, and the operation of his hands, will notice with pleasure-that Samuel J. Mills felt the desire, and formed the purpose, to devote his life to the service of Christ among the heathen-a purpose, however, which was known, first to his mother, and then to a few individuals only, till about four years afterwards.

In the extracts which have been inserted from his letters, the reader has discovered his intimate acquaintance with the subtle workings of the human heart, and his unsleeping vigilance to detect and guard against its impositions. His selfknowledge, and the rigid self-inspection which he habitually maintained, would appear in a still more striking light from his private diary, if that were spread before the public eye.Neither friends nor foes could name a fault in him, which he had not detected, and condemned in terms of unsparing severity. They would find their severest judgments anticipated; and they would find too-what the world little suspects of the Christian-that the smallest trespasses were the cause of heart-felt lamentation and grief in those hours of secret retirement, when no eye but Jehovah's was witness to his sorrow. In his example, the young aspirant for fame might see an illustration of the wise man's maxim, "before honor is humility;" and that the surest path to an enduring reputation is found by "asking counsel of God," and "acknowledging him in all our ways." Faithfulness, either to the dead or the living, cannot, however, require, that a very free use should be made of the record of what passed in the inward sanctuary of his soula record obviously designed for his private use only, and in characters intended to be illegible by every eye except his own. So much will, nevertheless, be inserted, as is necessary to substantiate the representations in this narrative, or disclose important facts in his history, which could be learned from no other source.